Janet had been in this radiant mood when she cleared the table; but a few minutes after she came in again with a scared face, and beckoned to her mistress at the door. Mrs Ogilvy hurried out, afraid she knew not of what, fearing some catastrophe. Andrew stood behind Janet in the hall. “What is it, what is it?” the mistress cried.
“Have you siller in the house, mem? is it known that you have siller in the house?”
“Me—siller? are you out of your senses? I have no siller in the house—nothing beyond the ordinary,” Mrs Ogilvy cried.
“It’s just this,” said Janet, “there’s a heap of waiff characters creeping up about the house. I canna think it’s just for the spoons and the tea-service and that, that are aye here; but I thought if you had been sending for money, and thae burglars had got wit of it——”
“What kind of waiff characters?” said Mrs Ogilvy, trembling.
“They are both back and front. Andrew he was going to supper Sandy, and a man started up at his lug. The doors and the windows are all weel fastened, but Andrew he said I should let you ken.”
“The gentlemen,” said Andrew, “will maybe know—they will maybe know——”
“How should the gentlemen know, poor laddies, mair than any one of us?” cried Janet.
It was a great thing for Andrew all his life after that the mistress approved his suggestion. “I will go and tell them,” she said; “and you two go ben to your kitchen and keep very quiet, but if ye hear anything more let me know.”
She went back into the lighted room, trembling, but ready for everything. The two men were seated at the table. They were not talking as usual, but sat like men full of thought, saying nothing to each other. They looked up both—Lew with much attention, Rob with a sort of sulky indifference. “It appears,” said Mrs Ogilvy, speaking in a broken voice, “that there are men—all round the house.”